Smoky Mountain Setup (12 page)

Landry lowered his voice. “Your boss likes to stay on top of what’s going on in all his agents’ lives, doesn’t he?”

Daughtry rolled his eyes. “You have no idea, man.”

At the head of the table, Quinn’s cell phone trilled. He answered it with a brief “Hello” and just listened for a moment. “Okay, thanks.”

The room had grown quiet, all eyes turned to their boss.

“That was Dennison. A call came in to Sara’s radio while they were checking in on his grandmother. Patrol officers just got a call about a body found in the snow about a mile south of Fowler Ridge.”

Brand was the first to ask the obvious question. “Carver?”

“We’re not sure. Dennison’s heading over there with Sara to take a look.” Quinn’s gaze landed on Mark Fitzpatrick. “You know Carver’s wife pretty well, don’t you?”

Fitz nodded. “Lexie and I went to high school with her. You want me to go wait with her in case we get bad news?”

Pressure built inside Landry’s chest and swelled upward, making his head pound. He had to get out of this room, out of this building.

He had to get as far away from these people as he could, before anyone else got hurt.

He was on his feet and halfway out the door before anyone else reacted. He heard Quinn call his name, heard the scrape of chair legs on the floor as he swept through the door and down the hall.

Footsteps padded after him, hurrying to catch up as he reached the stairs. Olivia’s voice rang out behind him. “This is not your fault.”

He turned swiftly to look at her. “You’re trying to tell me you honestly think the BRI would have taken your colleague if I hadn’t shown up at your cabin two days ago like a stupid fool?” He felt sick, the half a plate of bacon and eggs he’d eaten heavy in his gut. “I knew there was a risk. I knew it. I just thought I would be the only one who would suffer if it all went wrong. I should have known better.”

“You don’t know this had anything to do with you.”

“Of course I do. That man on the mountain—he knew exactly who I was! I could tell from the tone of his voice.”

“Just because you recognized his voice doesn’t mean he recognized you.”

“Then why, after all this time of your friend Carver living safely on that mountain, did he get grabbed the very same day that bastard ran into us on the mountain? Can you answer me that?” Agitation rose like bile in his throat, spurring him into motion again. He started down the stairs at a reckless pace, two steps at a time, and bolted toward the front door.

Olivia raced down after him, grabbing him as he reached for the handle. “Damn it, no! Don’t you dare walk out on me again! Not like this.”

“It could have been you, Livvie.” He turned to look at her, his heart contracting at the concern that darkened her blue eyes. “You could be that body they found in the snow. I never should have come here. I never should have brought this nightmare to your doorstep.”

“It’s not Carver.” Alexander Quinn’s voice rang in the foyer, making them both turn to look at him. He walked unhurriedly down the stairs toward them, coming to a stop a few feet away.

“Dennison called back?” Olivia asked, sounding relieved.

“Yes. Halfway to the site, they got a call from the patrolman on the scene. The body had ID on it. Driver’s license. Some professional credentials.”

Beside Landry, Olivia frowned. “Professional credentials?”

Quinn walked closer, his gaze sliding from Olivia’s face to Landry’s. “To be specific, FBI credentials. Someone you both know, actually.”

Olivia exchanged a glance with Landry before she looked at her boss again. “Are you telling us—”

“After all this time, Darryl Boyle finally turned up,” Quinn said.

Chapter Twelve

“I thought we’d never find Boyle’s body. I figured he was somewhere down a hole in the mountains where nobody but the bears would find him.” McKenna Rigsby looked up at Nick Darcy, carrying out a whole silent conversation in that one glance.

Olivia had been tangentially involved in the ruse Rigsby and Darcy had set up to trap Darryl Boyle, an FBI agent who’d stupidly tried to co-opt the Blue Ridge Infantry to create a domestic terror act devastating enough to make the government finally start rooting out radicals from within the US borders. But Boyle had turned the tables on Rigsby, and if she and Darcy hadn’t been able to convince the head of the Blue Ridge Infantry that Boyle wasn’t the ally he made himself out to be, it might have been Rigsby lying dead in the snow rather than Boyle.

“I wonder how long he’s been out there,” Darcy murmured, looking troubled. Olivia knew he had never fully made peace with trading Boyle’s life for Rigsby’s, no matter how much he loved her. Like the rest of The Gates agents, he didn’t like leaving anyone behind, even someone who’d gone into league with the bad guys.

“Not long.” Quinn walked into the conference room, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Sara said the body was pretty fresh.”

“He disappeared months ago,” Landry said.

“I know.” Quinn glanced at Landry. “There were signs that Boyle had taken more than one beating during the time he’s been missing.”

Landry’s face went pale, and he looked down at his hands clasped tightly together on the table.

Olivia quelled the urge to touch him, knowing he’d just shrug her hand away. But she needed to get him somewhere alone, soon, and see if she could get him to talk about what he’d been through. Whatever the BRI had done to him—and she couldn’t imagine they’d been kind in any way—he was still suffering the emotional aftermath.

Repressing that trauma wasn’t going to make it go away. And anything he could remember about his time in captivity with the BRI might be important in their quest to take down the vicious militia group.

Quinn crossed until he was standing close to Landry. He waited for Landry to look up before speaking again. “You realize the discovery of Boyle’s body after all this time is only going to reenergize the FBI’s investigation into what happened last spring.”

Landry gave a solemn nod. “I know. I should get out of here before the FBI comes knocking on your front door.”

“I didn’t say that.” Quinn bent and planted his palms on the table. “But we need to consider what to do with you while the FBI is sniffing around.”

“Maybe it’s time to turn myself in.”

“No.” Olivia closed her fingers over his arm. “The last time you tried turning yourself in, the BRI took you captive.”

“But I was alone then.” He squeezed her hand. “Now I’m not.”

Warmth flooded her. “No, you’re not.”

“I don’t think we’ve reached that point yet,” Quinn said. “We’re pretty sure there are still people left in the FBI who are sympathetic to the Blue Ridge Infantry.”

“Darryl Boyle made that pretty clear. We just don’t know who or how many.” McKenna Rigsby looked across the table at Landry. “I’m sorry, Landry. I feel as if I’m the reason you went through what you did, because you were trying to help me.”

He shook his head quickly. “Don’t. You were a target, too. You had every right to try to figure out who in the FBI was trying to kill you. I’m sorry I didn’t work all that out before things went so wrong. I should have been paying better attention.” His gaze dropped and he tugged his arm away from Olivia’s grip. “I should have been a better agent.”

“You can flog yourself later,” Quinn said in a dust-dry tone. “Right now I need you to concentrate on what you might know about the people who took Carver captive. I don’t want to lose an agent. We’ve been damned lucky so far, and I’d like the record to hold.”

Landry nodded but didn’t say anything more.

“I think we’re safe from the FBI until the roads clear, but once they do, we’re going to be racing the clock.” Quinn looked at the agents surrounding him. “I’d like to stash Landry somewhere the FBI wouldn’t think to look for him, but I’m not sure at this point that our established safe houses are a good option. They’re too easy to connect to The Gates. Any other suggestions?”

“Rachel’s uncle and aunt live over in Bryson City,” Seth Hammond suggested. “They’ve got a guesthouse out back of their place. Rachel and I have stayed there a few times. Nobody’d think to look for Landry there.”

“Rachel’s his wife,” Olivia murmured to Landry.

“A decent option. Any other suggestions?”

“I have family in Alabama who are damned good in a fight,” Caleb Cooper said.

“I’ve considered that option, but I don’t want Landry that many hours away.”

“What difference does that make?” Olivia asked, not liking the dark gleam she saw in Quinn’s eyes.

Her boss glanced at her briefly before turning his pointed gaze to Landry. “Because sooner or later, I believe Mr. Landry will understand the vital need for him to tell us everything he remembers about his time in BRI captivity. And when he does, I don’t want to have to drive six hours to hear him out.”

Next to Olivia, Landry looked down at the table, his jaw tight with anger. She put her hand on his leg under the table and felt his muscles twitch. “Why don’t we start with Bryson City?” she suggested. “As soon as the roads are cleared for travel, I’ll drive him there. We’ll play tourists for a few days until the FBI gets tired of sniffing around here.”

Quinn’s gaze remained on Landry’s lowered head. “Very well. The temperature is supposed to rise above freezing this afternoon, with enough sunshine to give us a decent melt-off. The roads could be clear enough to drive by morning.”

Olivia squeezed Landry’s leg. “Then we’ll head out first thing in the morning.”

* * *

“T
HE
H
UNTERS
ARE
nice people.” Olivia had spent most of the past hour folding the clothes for their trip to Bryson City. She kept a couple of changes of clothing at the office for emergency situations, she’d explained to Landry when she’d pulled the small overnight bag out of her locker in the agents’ bull pen. Added to the clothes they’d brought with them on the hike over the mountain, she had enough to wear for four days. If they could find a laundry in Bryson City, they could stay longer if necessary.

But Landry knew it wouldn’t be necessary.

He’d put off facing everything that had happened to him in BRI captivity for long enough.

He caught Olivia’s wrist as she placed a pair of socks in one of the suitcases Quinn had provided. “We don’t have to go to Bryson City.”

She frowned. “You want to go somewhere else?”

“I can tell Quinn everything he needs to know tonight. Get it over with and get out of here so you and everybody else can get on with your lives.”

The look on her face nearly unraveled his resolve. “You want to leave? Now? After—” Her lips snapped to a thin line and she turned away.

“It would be better for you, Livvie. Surely you can see that. Even if we can somehow prove I’m not a traitor, there’s no way the FBI lets me come back. I’m done there. And I’m not sure what other sort of job I can get that’s going to be worth anything. I don’t know how to be anything else.”

“Quinn would hire you.”

“No, he wouldn’t. I’m too big a risk. He knows that. So do you.”

“Because you worked with the Blue Ridge Infantry? Obviously, you were trying to bring them down.” Her brow furrowed. “Right?”

She was trying so hard not to have doubts, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. He couldn’t really blame her. He hadn’t exactly given her a reason to believe in him anymore.

“I was. But I wasn’t doing it for the FBI or any other organization that could back me up. I have only my word that I was on the side of the angels, and Quinn can’t trust my word.” He touched her face, letting his fingers slide lightly over the perfect curve of her cheek. “You can’t, either, can you?”

Her jaw tightened, her chin lifting. “I believe you.”

“Without any proof?”

Her gaze leveled with his, her eyes a cool, crystalline blue that should have chilled him but warmed him to his core instead. “Your word is the proof. I believe you.”

She almost convinced him she did.

She released a soft sigh, as if she could read his own doubts. “Let’s just go through with the plan, okay? We’ll go to Bryson City to stay for a few days. Once we’re there, if you want to tell me everything you can remember about your time in captivity, great. If you feel you need to wait a little longer, that’s fine, too. I know you’ll do the right thing for Grant Carver.”

Landry couldn’t stop a soft laugh. “Oh, Livvie. Still twisting the knife with a smile, aren’t you?”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Me?”

“I will do everything I can to help find Carver.” God knew, the guilt was starting to eat him up.

“I know you will.”

Alexander Quinn stopped by the dorm room a few minutes later. “The roads into North Carolina have been deemed passable by the Tennessee and North Carolina Highway Patrols.” He handed over a key to Olivia. “There’s a Chevy Tahoe parked out back, gassed up and ready to go. It should be able to handle any icy patches left on the road.”

Olivia glanced at Landry. “Is Rachel’s uncle expecting us?”

“Yes. He’s setting up the guesthouse for you. If anyone asks, you’re distant relatives from Georgia, up here to enjoy the winter season in the Smokies.”

“I don’t want to put anyone else in danger,” Landry said. The closer he got to leaving The Gates, the more he feared he was making a mistake. “Maybe I should just wait here for the FBI to show up and take me into custody. I can call a lawyer I know in Richmond, make sure he makes noise with the Richmond field office so they’ll know someone’s watching.”

“Why didn’t you do that when you got away from the BRI?” Quinn asked.

He wasn’t sure he had a good answer. At the time he got away from his captors, his only thought was to get clear of their reach and find a place to hunker down until he could figure out what to do next.

The problem was, he never really figured out what to do next.

“Go to Bryson City. Do some thinking without the pressure of the FBI breathing down your neck,” Quinn suggested. “Maybe you’ll figure out how you want to handle things with the FBI from a place of clarity.”

Clarity
, Landry thought. He wasn’t sure he knew what the word meant anymore.

* * *

T
HE
DRIVE
TO
Bryson City took two hours on slick roads through the Smoky Mountains, but the Chevy handled the conditions as well as Olivia could have hoped, and the scenery was so breathtaking she had to struggle to keep her eyes on the road instead of the snowy landscape.

“I wish this was a pleasure trip,” Landry murmured as they rounded a curve and came upon another breathtaking mountain vista.

“So do I.”

“Do you know anything about this place where we’ll be staying?”

“It’s actually an extension of a restaurant and music venue, Song Valley Music Hall.”

“A music hall?”

She glanced at him, taking in his confusion. “It belongs to Rafe Hunter, Rachel Hammond’s uncle.”

“Wife of the con man.”

“Former con man.”

“Whatever.”

“Her aunt and uncle have run this place for years. They’re actually quite well-known for what they do. Apparently, Rafe Hunter is known in music circles as a brilliant judge of talent. Seth says playing at the Song Valley Music Hall is a badge of honor for a new artist.”

Landry was silent for a moment while Olivia eased the Tahoe into a slushy curve. Once they’d reached the straightaway, he added, “Does this Rafe Hunter know who we are and why we’re there?”

“He knows I work with Seth. He thinks you’re my boyfriend and this is a winter getaway for us.” She glanced at Landry and saw him frowning. “Is that a problem? It seemed like the easiest cover story.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“We aren’t going to see much of Mr. Hunter, so you don’t have to pretend anything.”

“That’s not the problem, believe me.”

“Then what?”

“Are we going to share a room?”

She slanted another look at him and found his intense green gaze on her. Heat flitted up her neck and into her cheeks, and she forced her gaze back to the winding road. “It’s a guesthouse. There are two bedrooms.”

His voice dropped to a soft growl. “That didn’t entirely answer my question.”

Her breath caught. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

“Then maybe that’s the answer.” He leaned back against his seat. “I think we should both be really sure about anything that happens between us this time. We both ignored a lot of doubts the last time and jumped into things recklessly.”

“That’s how you remember our relationship?” She tried to quell the sense of hurt that rose in her chest, but she didn’t have much luck. “As a reckless mistake?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I think you did.”

He fell silent for the rest of the drive, tension stretching between them until Olivia felt that she’d snap in two. The sight of the Song Valley Music Hall through the front windshield of the Tahoe was a palpable relief.

The place was packed, parking hard to come by, but Olivia found a slot for the Tahoe near the far end of the parking lot and cut the engine. “You stay here. I’ll go find Rafe and tell him we’re here.”

“Where’s the guesthouse?” he asked, giving the low-slung saloon-style facade of the music hall a skeptical look.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. She’d assumed there would be some sort of residential structure attached to the building, but there was nothing like that in sight as she crossed the gravel parking lot and entered the music hall.

An early dinner crowd filled the place with talk and laughter that rang in her ears after the long, mostly silent drive through the mountains. The smiling man at the bar at the back answered her query by pointing to a short, jovial man talking to customers at a nearby table.

Olivia waited for him to finish the conversation, stepping into his path as he turned toward the next table. “Mr. Hunter?”